


songbird

by howlingmoonrise (TheDarkStoryteller)



Category: Pet Shop of Horrors
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Levels of Cannibalism, Canonical Character Death, F/M, I GUESS because it IS petshop of horrors, Mating Rituals, Other, Strelizia chapter, reverse bestiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkStoryteller/pseuds/howlingmoonrise
Summary: I sing for you every night. Why do you not come for me? I sing and I sing and I sing, even as my mate devours me further, just to please you.--Or, the Strelizia chapter from the bird's perspective.
Relationships: Angelica Winston/P-chan (Pet Shop Of Horrors)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 22





	songbird

**Author's Note:**

> **you:** RAREPAIR  
>  **me, an intellectual:** RAREPAIR for a RARE FANDOM
> 
> real talk tho this is one weird fic so i apologize in advance (but definitely do tell me your thoughts on it!!!)

You don’t come to hear me sing.

My throat is raw, ragged. My legs, devoured. The floor is sticky, uncomfortable: why don’t you come? Why don’t you come?

I sing for you every night. The most beautiful songs I know, not those born for daughters of kings, for queens of distant places, but for the brilliant light of the sun, for the clear river waters, for the tall ancient trees where we lay our nests. Comfort and warmth, freedom and home and love and love and love. All for you, all for you.

Why do you not come for me? Why have you left me behind? I sing and I sing and I sing, even as my mate devours me further, just to please you. Can you hear me? Can you hear me now, under this moonless night, this lonely sky? Can you hear me, even if I can’t see you? I will not stop, as long as I have lungs. As long as I have breath, and a throat and a mouth to sing for you. Gently, so gently, a song as gentle as my love, I sing, but you do not respond. You don’t have wings: are you like me? Can you love me as I love you, even if you do not understand my words, my song? Can I reach the song of your heart, the one that echoes mine?

My mate will eat my entrails next, but I do not want her to. I show her my hands, my wings, one and the other; their existence does not matter if I can still sing, if I can still reach you one last time. I dream of your hair, your eyes, your gentle hands, your kind voice that goes soft beneath mine; I dream it all even when I am awake and dying, because soon I will not be able to dream at all. 

I call for you. In dreams, and melodies. Why don’t you come? Why don’t you come? Blood stains my song, bittersweet on my tongue, but I do not stop. You always come when I sing. If I stop, I will not see you again, and so though my breath rattles and everything aches, I cannot stop: a song of sorrow, a song of love, just for you. I will leave behind a little one, one that will sing for me when I no longer can do it. Someone else to light your lonely nights; someone else to lick sweet tears from your eyes. They will have my voice, my deep love, but will you accept it from them, when you haven’t from me?

If you were a bird, could I have had you? Could you have held me between your wings, tight and gentle, gentle as your hands, as your heart? Could my song have reached you deeper, told you of my love? Would it be your gentle mouth to devour me, bit by bit, with rose lips and pearl teeth and bloodstained kisses all the way to my lungs? I would still sing for you then, for as long as I could, for as long as I had breath. When my voice quieted, it would only be to live inside you, a forever-song of mates and love and death to keep you company in this world.

But you do not come. Why don’t you come? Beloved, beloved, I am running out of time. No more limbs, no more bone and flesh for my mate to devour: my song is not for her, and she is hungry, so hungry. I sing, and I sing, and I sing, and then my voice is petering out, faltering, dying as I am, and where are you? I must see you. I must see you, before I go, before the light goes dark to my eyes; I must feel your gentle hands one last time. I ache in a way that has nothing to do with my spilling entrails, with my dying voice: where did you go? Why haven’t you come back?

Why did you leave me? Why did you leave me? I did as you asked. I did as you showed. You brought me a mate, a mate for my own that I never wanted, not if it wasn’t you. I sang and I let myself be eaten, flesh into new flesh, blood into new blood, but my songs are for you, only you, even if you do not want my flesh and my blood and my love. Come back! The light is darkening. My song is fading. Soon I won’t be able to see you at all, or sing for you to find your way. Where are you?

There is a breeze. Soft, sweet, cold. Your scent. Your voice. The sound of your footsteps, careful, so careful, like you don’t want me to see you, like you don’t want me to know you’re there. Have you come for me? Have you come for me, as I have begged you to, even though I can no longer sing? I can no longer wipe your tears. I can no longer comfort you with my voice. And you are crying, tears falling; I can hear them, hear the name you gave me, though I can no longer see. No breath, no heartbeat. Only a piece of me left, for a moment more: one last thought.

You came for me.

  
  



End file.
